Switheroo
by Sasami1
Summary: Further proof that public schools rot the brain.


Switcheroo  
~Sasami  
  
Staring at the gentle throbbing light, Raphael's eyes slowly closed. He sighed and rubbed his cranium. Opening his eyes again he saw that the same set of numbers was placed before him. They waited for his contribution. They waited to be put in their place. So many numbers to care for. Each with their own needs and procedures.  
  
He returned again to the hard copy and flipped to a fresh page. Somewhere they must be a clue. A hint hidden in procedural process. But it was just that. Hidden.   
  
Resting the sheaf on the desk, he exchanged it for a cup of cool coffee. It gave his throat a stale taste as soon as he swallowed. He grimaced and set it back down again. Where is the key? He thought to himself. Where?  
  
Raphael slowly lowered his head to the keys. His eyes remained on the screen, grazing over the numbers. His cheek brushed over the number pad of the keys and he paused. Opening his mouth, he took the corner of the board between his teeth. He chewed reflectively as the numbers sporadically blipped at him. Where? Where?  
  
~~~  
  
  
"Jump! Jump! C'mon!" Grinding his thumbs against the tiny console, the twisting turtle groaned forcefully as Mario leapt at a pipe out of his reach. Leonardo suddenly leapt himself off the edge of the bed. "YESSSSSS!"  
  
The console dropped to the floor and he yelped. A cartoon turtle padded along a line of tan bricks and ran into Mario. The little mans eyes exploded and he leapt off the screen, a sad but vaudeville song playing him out.  
  
Pouting as hard as his face would allow, Leonardo slumped back down into the cocoon of quilts and pillows. His Hawaiian shorts reflected in the tiny TV as Mario spun all the way back across the screen. It had taken him eight lives to make it through that course, and he had lost it again.  
  
Furious and frustrated tears seared threateningly in his eyes when he caught site of the box half hidden beneath a bed sheet. Waterworks disappearing, Leonardo eyed the opened end expectantly for a few moments. His ninja hand darted in, and out again, mashing Captain Crunch cereal against his face, his eyes trained innocently on the ceiling.  
  
~~~~  
  
Chest heaving, arms sweating, legs throbbing, launching at the hanging bag. Feet flying, twisting body and accompanying cries. Bag jolting with merciless attacks, like a sack of potatoes thrown against a series of walls. A piece of fluff drifted listlessly to the floor.  
  
Retreating several steps, Donatello rapidly switched his footing. Teeth grinding, he glared at the bag as it slowed its violent sways. Depositing pieces of white filler into the air.   
  
His head jerked around the room for the next piece of equipment that had slowed from the force of his attacks. Finding none, he immediately began leaping about the dojo.  
  
"Ya ya ya ya ya!!!!" Donatello declared, vaulting off the set of weights. He landed afoot again and sprinted effortlessly to the wall. "Hiya! Haaaaa!" His feet took him right up the wall with speed. Perching on the ceiling, he glared down at the ground, his blood boiling. "Ninja ninja ninja!" He hissed, jumping back to the ground with kicking feet. "Ninja!" He hissed as he ran to the open door.  
  
~~~~  
  
"I like porn!" Pages flew in a flurry. "PORN!" Mike flailed a handful of magazines about. Pages after foldouts of naked girls drifted to the kitchen floor. One last fling and they all ended up in the corner by the oven, lying in wild disarray.  
  
Refilling his hand with the nearest bottle, Mike twisted of the cap with his teeth. Spitting it into the air, he stuck the brown bottle rim into his mouth and suckled from it. His eyes scanned over the display of glass bottles set before him at the table. Unopened, they stood in silent testament like soldiers for inspection from their admiral.   
  
Michelangelo saluted them, then tilted his head back, the bottle standing up straight so his arms could rest at his sides. He watched the bubbles as they raised to the surface, the amber liquid draining into his stomach.  
  
The master entered the kitchen, and he frantically removed the bottle from his mouth, straightening his posture. Master stopped to look at him on her way through. Unable to help himself, Michelangelo grabbed a magazine that had been under his thigh, and let out a rank belch into its open pages. He was ashamed, but hopefully he hadn't had been as rude as otherwise.  
  
~~~~  
  
Hearing the unmistakable sounds of April O'Neil, all the turtles bolted from their places to the bottom of the stairs. Mike hid a burp in his fist and coughed. Dusting her thigh off, April beamed down at them.  
"Hey guys!"   
"Hi April!" They chimed. "How are you?"  
"I'm great!" He declared, swinging his furry hips all the way down the stairs. "I just finished a great story!"  
"THAT'S FANTASTIC!" Raphael declared.  
"LET'S ALL TAKE A LISTEN!" Donatello said.  
"RIGHT ON, APRIL!" Leonardo cheered.  
"I WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH YOU!" Michelangelo said.  
"Come. Let us all get smashed." Splinter motioned them gently towards the kitchen.  
  
  
Fin 


End file.
